Mind boggling
by Chiisana Minako
Summary: Patrick Jane’s mind is powerful. He can trick pretty much everyone, can’t he? But unfortunately for him, not even his self-assured persona is immune to the sneakiness of his own mind; especially when it comes to Lisbon. -Oneshot.


**Mind-boggling – by Chiisana Minako.**

**A/N: **I think the only thing that keeps me from falling asleep on my keyboard right now is the freezing cold that has me shivering. Brr. And it's not even winter yet. Anyway, I want to thank Yaba for her extremely quick and throughout betaing! You're so sweet with me.

Second Jisbon oneshot, whee!

Thank you so much for the support on the first one! And I will definitely try to make a sequel if my male-muse decides to cooperate : )

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The door closed with more force than necessary, a strong slamming sound followed by a feminine laugh resonating in the echoing silence it created. The room was dark, but the dim lighting was enough for them to see each other. His blue eyes glinted mischievously, taking their sweet time to scan the woman only inches away from him, the lack of earrings, the delicate curve of her neck, and the black bra strap hanging off her shoulder, descending to the cleavage revealed by the half-opened shirt he unbuttoned a few seconds ago. He was itching to explore her body, hands learning where she wanted to be touched, revealing all her well-kept secrets.

Lisbon could feel his eyes examining her, memorizing probably, and having him stare at her chest made her feel a little self conscious but secretly proud of making his cool facade slip. Biting her lip, she ran her hands up and down Jane's chest, noticing how his eyes immediately went to her mouth. Gaining more confidence, she fisted his shirt and pulled him close, even daring to taunt him by slowly pushing her hips against his, keeping light but constant pressure. His groan, hot against her ear, made a shiver run down her spine; however, it didn't stop her from brushing her cheek against his for a second, inhaling his scent, a mixture of soap, musk, and a cologne she could never identify. As Jane's hands became braver and his breathing more shallow, she took the chance to slide her tongue along the side of his neck excruciatingly slowly.

The blonde's eyes fluttered close, his control finally snapping.

Before Lisbon knew what was happening, her back hit the mattress and Jane had her wrists pinned above her head, keeping them there as he leaned in to kiss her hungrily on the lips. Their breathing became more and more labored as their lips kept brushing together, his tongue found hers and she could feel her whole body reacting. He was an incredibly sensual kisser, despite the eagerness of it all, it was still hypnotizing.

Lisbon tried to break her hands free, aching to touch him, bury her hands in his golden hair and bring him impossibly closer, but he wouldn't let her. She whimpered in protest and could feel him smiling against her lips. If anything, he only tightened his hold on her wrists, without losing contact with her mouth.

It was sweet torture.

For someone who liked to be in control as much as she did, it was surprising that being helpless for a little while felt this arousing. Although that probably had a lot to do with the man on top of her. It wasn't just anybody; it wasn't just a random attractive guy. It was her ever infuriating consultant: exasperating but oddly sweet at times and very annoyingly attractive Jane.

She was at Patrick Jane's mercy. Just the thought of it had her abdomen tightening.

"Jane…" she breathed. He had allowed her lips some rest, trailing kisses down to her neck and across her shoulder, nudging the bra strap even further down her arm.

"Jane, come on," she whined, referring to her captive wrists. He stopped for a moment, leaning back a bit to see her face.

His panting didn't stop him from smirking at her through parted lips. Despite the inebriation clouding them both, he knew what was going on inside her head. He knew Lisbon would secretly enjoy him being in charge –for a while, that is. Her flushed skin, her swollen lips, and heaving chest were just proving his point. It was so alluring to tease her, bring her close to the edge even with _a_ _lot_ of (too many) clothes on.

Lisbon's eyes, a darker shade of green now, were staring back at him, and before Jane could release her hands like he intended to, she wrapped one leg on his waist and pulled him down, taking his thigh hostage with her own in the process. His quick intake of breath made her smile a little.

The closeness was almost overwhelming; their lower bodies pressed so intimately together, their eye contact never breaking. The blond realized he was torturing himself more than her at this point; he was dying to finish undressing her, to feel her soft skin against his fingertips, to hear her gasp when he reached the perfect spot. As Lisbon shifted her hips, he let go of her wrists and muffled his groan against her neck.

Taking advantage of her recovered freedom, she unfastened the remaining buttons on his shirt while he did the same with hers, kissing his way down.

Even though he couldn't see her face, Jane knew she was smiling, and that had him smiling too.

_Wait_.

_There is something wrong with this picture…_

It is weird for him to feel that easily engaged with the moment, isn't it? Not that she isn't attractive –or arousing in this situation, but he still has a lot going on inside of him. Teresa Lisbon… she… he can't. This is not happening. It shouldn't. It can't.

As the rationalization keeps pestering his mind, Jane opens his eyes. He's facing the night table, lying on his side. His breathing is just a tad quicker than normal, probably due to the rather steamy images in his brain.

Whoa, ok, rewind.

They were celebrating… something, with the team, maybe? Had too much to drink; somehow he and Lisbon ended up alone in his room… does that mean _he_ seduced _her_? Nah. It was just a dream. Triggered by… a scene in a movie, perhaps?

The fact that he hasn't seen a movie in weeks doesn't elude him, but he's desperately hanging on to any excuse he can find. Anyway, it doesn't matter what triggered the dream. It was just that, _just_ a dream. Not quite innocent but really very harmless.

He's almost afraid to turn, fearing what he may find lying on the other side of the bed. An image of her darkened emeralds flashes on his mind. What if…?

No.

It's just a silly fear.

_He could feel Lisbon's fingernails digging into his back as he moved..._

Yes, silly. Nothing… really.

It'd been two minutes, and he still can't make his body turn. It's just that… it was too vivid to be a dream and too… improbable –he decides is a safe adjective- to be true. Yet, he can still taste Lisbon's lips on his own, the way she said his name in that breathy husky voice, asking him to go faster.

When he runs a hand through his hair, he realizes he's naked from the waist up, clad only in boxers, which is a bit unsettling considering he usually sleeps in more than this.

He swallows hard; it's getting harder to turn by the minute. Even if he keeps telling himself he's just being paranoid, there's still a small chance of it being actually true and this isn't just a random woman, this is Lisbon. Bossy, sarcastic, supportive (and sometimes naïve) Lisbon.

Damn alcohol. If he was going to black out, couldn't he have at least blocked everything out? The uncertainty is now killing him, and he knows the sight of Lisbon as it keeps flashing in his mind won't leave him alone for a long while, if ever.

Closing his eyes tightly, he turns slowly onto his left side. He can feel his heartbeat hammering in his throat, the fear, the shame, the mess this could turn into won't let him open his eyes and find out the truth. He is a glutton for punishment; that much he knows with certainty. By prolonging the suspense, by not facing reality he was only torturing himself.

"_Jane..." _A mental image of _another kind_ of torture made him shudder.

Ok, he feels no sign of someone breathing near him. He can't hear one… nor feel it in his face. That's good. Taking a mouthful of air, he decides to stop being such a chicken and open his eyes.

He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

The left side of the bed is empty.

A hint of a smile forms on his lips, yet the realization gives him mixed feelings, perhaps a bit of disappointment, though the immense relief is overwhelming. Sadly, it's better this way for both of them, for everyone really. This way Lisbon can still be Lisbon, his rescuer from angry suspects, his source of endless amusement, and the closest thing to a friend that he has. Now, he doesn't have to deal with the guilt that sleeping with her would surely bring.

The fact that Jane has dreamt about her this way is worrisome, though. It's not like he hasn't dreamt about her before. When he doesn't have nightmares, she is often in some way or another swimming in his unconscious. However, a sex dream… -not that he remembered the actual 'sex' part of this particular one- that's a bit different.

He's had a few before, but none have ever felt as real as this one.  
Was it because they are closer now? A million possibilities are racing through his mind. For someone this trained in sorting his thoughts, he's having trouble clearing his head, his brain won't shut up. He'll blame it on the alcohol.

He should be content with it being just a dream.

Yet, his thoughts keep annoying him, especially images and sensations from his stay in dreamland.

As if he needed more reasons not to sleep.

More than a little grumpy, he rolls onto his back, centering himself more on the mattress and letting a huff of air leave his lungs. It's only then when he notices the bathroom door closing and footsteps coming his way that his heart stops beating.

Instinctively, he looks at the source of the sound… and he sees her: Teresa Lisbon, walking unsteadily to the bed.

Wearing only black lingerie.

The mattress dips beneath her, while she murmurs for him to scoot and nudges a leg between his. Jane is still too shocked to say anything.

A fully-alert Lisbon would have been very amused to have rendered him speechless.

His body starts to react to hers. She has so much skin on display… her breasts press into his chest and her hands find their way to his hair. As Jane s desperately tries to ignore the déjà-vu feeling, Lisbon keeps shifting to get comfortable.

He's about to say something when Lisbon sleepily lifts her head and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth. His lips part and his blues close, he has no control over it. Despite what he kept telling himself earlier, he wants to taste her lips even if just once, the memory of them from his faded memories is not enough anymore. It's not his fault; he has all these images in his head, her warm body glued to his side, her mumbling incoherently in a soft, long sigh against his neck. It won't be that bad to indulge in this fantasy of his. Most likely she won't remember in the morning anyway…

But when Jane opens his eyes again and moves her head a bit so he can face her, she was fully asleep. Too late. He could still steal a kiss, but he wants it to be reciprocated, to know just how much effect he has on her, how much he can push her.

Even if he is a little frustrated, a soft smile tugs at his lips, studying her long lashes and flushed cheeks. She really is something else…

Even when the evidence points to the contrary, he still wonders if it had been a dream.

Meanwhile, Lisbon snuggles her way closer to him, apparently a bit cold.

Maybe he is dreaming again.

Right then he doesn't care. He wraps one arm around her small frame and kisses her forehead before allowing her to nuzzle his neck again, clearly pleased with the position change.

His mind had asked enough questions for the night, and if he feels sleepy he has to take the chance, since it happens so rarely.

One thing is certain though: he is pretty good at living in denial.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Let me know what you think ;D


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